Heroes
by Griever5
Summary: After getting rid of pesky pirates, former-CP9 take a break at the bar.


The innkeeper's daughter bustles by – pigtails and freckles and a toothy grin plastered across her face. She is serving the table next to theirs, crowded with gossiping middle-aged women, bright-red lipstick and powdered cheeks.

Fukuro keeps his mouth zippered shut, lips curved with unease.

Blueno is calmly sipping from a wooden mug, and Kaku avoids slamming face-first into his soup when Jyabura smacks him heavily on the shoulder.

"C'mon! The ladies have fine taste!" Jyabura waves, tilts his head back, leering.

Kalifa raises an eyebrow.

It is hard to ignore the coy giggles and dazzling winks that are wafting across from the other table.

The inn had been getting rowdier with each passing day when the news spread about the town's heroes working at the inn. They were already infamous for their Devil-Fruit circus tricks that paid for Lucci's treatment when they were first washed ashore.

They manage to get through dinner, ducking away from out-spread arms and pursed lips. Kaku had to pretend to spill stew down a customer's shirt so that Blueno could steer Kalifa away before the man shrieking at the hot stew dribbling down his back wouldn't have to start shrieking about the loss of genitals.

Lucci and Kaku are left clearing up after most of the crowd is hustled out – Lucci puts the chairs up, as Kaku wipes down the tables.

"It'd be another week before we get enough to rent a ship to take us out." Kaku considers the information that Kalifa had fed him earlier in the day. "We are pretty far from any of the major Marine headquarters though."

Lucci hums a response, a low purr from the back of his throat.

Kaku runs a hand through blond hair, huffs. "Too bad this town doesn't have a Marine base set up."

"We could request for one." Lucci's voice is still and quiet in the near-silence.

Kaku nods, scrubbing at a stubborn stain. "That would help."

They continue on for a while, accompanied only by the faint _clunk _when Lucci straightens out the chairs.

"It's funny… being called heroes."." Kaku picks at a callus. "Never thought I'd miss… existing."

"We are what we are."

"But we're no longer CP9." Kaku rubs at his nose. "But of course, there's no such thing as CP9." He snickers at the private joke.

Lucci is tugging at the shutters. "It's only a name. Only a face."

Kaku chuckles. "But we're not pretending."

Lucci hums again, "No. We're not."

Kaku catches a glimpse of the fleeting flicking of expression that darts across Lucci's face.

"Is it hard?" Kaku tosses out the question simply, not probing for an answer.

Lucci is rattling the doorknob to make sure that the front door is secure. "It is… different."

Justice has always been unforgiving and unrelenting, and their chase for it is tiring and never-ending. The scars etched across Lucci's back are a fair enough contribution to that fact. Justice – following orders to the letter, becoming faster and stronger in the name of the symbol on a white flag.

They had faced other types of Justice before - had faced them, bowled them over, wiped them out and planted their own neatly in place.

Just a while ago, _they_ had been the ones who had toppled. Fell hard and fast and heavy.

But, Kaku thinks, it had been worth it.

Worth losing his cap, wearing an apron every day, wiping down tables.

Worth Jyabura's hooting laughter when he manages a strike in bowling because he is bowling as Jyabura, not what he was ordered to be.

Worth Kalifa's effort when she uses her Devil Fruit power, not to suffocate, destroy, maim but to polish a new pair of sleek shoes, to clean her glasses, to add glitter to a child's toy.

Worth Blueno working as a bartender again because he likes it, not because he has to lie and cheat and gain another's trust so that he can turn it back on them.

Worth Kudamori learning a new dance to entertain the youngsters that pass by, a dance that doesn't involve strangling or getting stronger.

Worth Fukuro talking as much as he wants, babbling on and on because he no longer has to be a secret.

Worth the faint unfamiliar smile that he sees on a familiar face when scars are beginning to fade and wounds are beginning to heal, worth the hearty handshake that he sees being exchanged because of gratitude and not purpose.

Kaku strolls over to the counter, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, pouring out a drink with the other.

Lucci joins him, helping himself. "Cheers."

Kaku grins. Lucci smiles, all too human and real and Lucci.

They had never expected to be called heroes.

But it's not so bad.


End file.
